


Rain Keeps Tumbling Down

by firefright



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Jealousy, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Party, Rain Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: Wayne functions are hard enough for Bruce to get through on an ordinary day. He really doesn't need Dick doing his best to drive him crazy by flirting with every woman in the room on top of that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matan4il](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matan4il/gifts).



> Hi! Welcome to my Batfam Christmas Exchange fic everyone! My recipient for this exchange is Matan4il, who gave me some lovely BruDick prompts to work with. I ultimately chose to go with the 'in the rain' idea, and I do hope you enjoy it! It was a lot of fun to write XD

The party has been going for approximately three hours and twenty-three minutes. Three hours past the time that Bruce started thinking longingly of the cave below the house, and Gotham’s rooftops calling him despite the torrential downpour hammering the city tonight.

Tuxedos and shiny dress shoes have never suited him so well as a cape and heavy duty combat boots, yet the former has proven to be a necessary evil more than once in his career. Sometimes Gotham needed Bruce Wayne more than it did Batman. Not often, but enough that holding these parties - and the occasional charity gala - was something Bruce couldn’t get out of

No matter how much he tried to. 

With Alfred blocking his escape route unless some form of emergency takes hold of Gotham City tonight, Bruce is forced to mingle. To make nice. To play the part of foolish, moneybags Brucie Wayne; his least favourite disguise out of his numerous personas, and the only consolation he has is that he’s not being forced to go through this torment alone.

His other children may have escaped the party, but across the room Dick stands surrounded by a crowd of eager young debutantes, and even older women from high society. Some of them are old blood, from the families who have been running Gotham since the day the first foundations were sunk into the earth; others newly inducted into the world of wealth as the daughters of upcoming entrepreneurs. But all of them share the same common thread tonight of being drawn in by his former ward’s magnetic personality and brilliant good looks. To the point that Bruce can hardly make Dick out amongst the sea of glittering dresses and elegantly knotted hair.

The group laughs and giggles as one organism. Rippling like a shoal of fish on the ballroom floor. The sounds aren’t even faked the way they often are by those seeking to better their fortunes by cosying up to those higher up in the totem pole than they are, as Dick’s natural charm has them eating out of the palm of his hand. He always makes entertaining a crowd look effortless; a skill Bruce secretly covets even at the best of times. His own performances are always so stringently crafted, dug in with effort, while inside he wants nothing more to crawl away to the safety of darkness and silence. The more familiar beats of breaking criminal heads.

But right now? That skill isn’t just enviable, it’s… well, it’s frustrating to him as well.

The fragile champagne glass in his hand threatens to crack at every brush of a feminine hand against Dick’s arm. With every flirtatious look. Bruce barely hears the words of the government official standing next to him, droning on and on about city infrastructure.

Normally he can cope with this. It’s part and parcel of their lives after all. Women (and sometimes men) flirt with them; he’s rich and powerful, and Dick is his heir, as well as stunning to look at. It’s expected, they have a cover to maintain, but normally…

Normally, Dick isn’t quite so clearly flirting _back_.

His laughter carries across the ballroom like the ringing of bells when he bows his head down to listen to the punchline of a joke, or some whispered secret. His hands light on waists and arms with boyish bravado, teasing and playful as the women grow flustered and pretend to scold him for his forwardness. Dick in turn pretends to flinch back, lifting his hands as if to shield himself from their reproach before once again darting into the scrum with another ribald joke.

And Bruce can’t take his eyes off him. Off _them_.

Dick has to know what he’s doing to him. How the earnest flirtation and reciprocation digs into the darkest parts of Bruce’s soul. The pieces of himself he ordinarily keeps under lock and key of the highest calibre.

After a year of broken promises to himself and fumbling encounters in the dark, exploded into being by another of their near death encounters, he should damn well know how possessive Bruce is.

The room already felt constricting with the amount of people in it, but now the temperature is quickly approaching boiling. The high collar of his shirt is choking him at the neck, and when Dick coyly beckons one of the women to follow him towards the dance floor Bruce has finally had enough.

“Excuse me.” he says brusquely to the man at his side, setting down the champagne glass on a nearby table before the stem can break between his fingers and heading in Dick’s direction.

Dick of course, sees him coming from a mile away. He even has the gall to _wink_ in Bruce’s direction over the shoulder of the slender brunette he’s dancing with. They keep twisting and twirling among the other couples, right up until the moment Bruce appears behind them, grasping Dick’s shoulder with a grip that’s too tight to be comfortable.

“Dick,” he says, giving not a whit of care for the thoughts of his dance partner, “I need a word with you. Now.”

And Dick, not missing a beat, simply smiles back at him before turning to the girl, who looks up at Bruce with parted lips and wide brown eyes darkened with copious amounts of eyeliner. “Sure thing, Bruce. You don’t mind right, Patricia?”

Patricia, as she’s now known to him, shakes her head. “Of course, I… I’ll just wait here for you, shall I?”

“You don’t have to on my account.” Dick says, far more kindly than Bruce would have been. “Go enjoy the party, we’ll catch up later.” Then he winks at her so that she blushes, before another meaningful squeeze from Bruce’s hand directs him to follow him across the floor.

Bruce doesn’t exactly have a destination in mind. He’s preoccupied with other thoughts, so his feet instinctively lead him to the closest place he can find where they’re unlikely to be disturbed or spied upon by anyone else here: the balcony. With the rain coming down outside, no one else will be out there. No one is even looking in its direction right now, except perhaps poor bereft Patricia.

The door isn’t locked. The handle turns easily under his hand, and Bruce doesn’t pause in stepping through, unflinching as the first drops of water soak into his hair and suit. Dick similarly walks out behind him without complaint, even going so far as to close his eyes and raise his face to the yielding heavens with a pleased sigh, as if this eventuality was what he’d been hoping for all along. A sight which is enough to stop Bruce from immediately making his point - for about a second, anyway.

“Dick.” He says lowly, in a dark and commanding tone that's not _quite_ Batman to catch his attention.

“Yes, Bruce?” Dick says, tilting his head towards him. The rain is already wetting his hair, plastering it down tight and thin to the curvature of his skull. Bruce’s hands ache at his sides when he notices this.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You know what.”

“I really don’t.” Dick says lightly, continuing to step past Bruce further out of the sight of the window. The ivy that grows up the walls here is thick, a welcome shield on one of the protruding columns of the house. It creates a sheltered nook; one which can’t be viewed from anywhere but the grounds opposite, and no sane person would walk out there in this weather.

No sane person: only people like them.

Bruce restrains a growl, turning to follow him. “That, inside. With those women. You were…” 

“Flirting?” Dick asks, with a knowing look under the thick fringe of his eyelashes.

He clenches his jaw. “Yes.”

Dick leans back against the ivy, not bothered by the wet leaves soaking through the back of his suit. He bends one leg, setting the flat of his foot against the wall before loosely folding his arms across his chest. There’s a coy edge to his smile, “I was just playing my part, Bruce. The way I’m supposed to, remember?”

“That didn’t look like playing.” he says hotly. Then inwardly grimaces when he realises how petulant he sounds. His hands continue to ache at his sides as he watches the water run down through Dick’s hair and over the visible parts of his skin, dampening the white fabric of his dress shirt so that it clings to the muscles of his chest. A body Bruce knows almost better than his own.

And Dick sees it, Dick knows him better than anyone else living. Which is why Bruce doesn’t buy his innocent act for a moment. Least of all when he says, “That’s because I’m a good actor.” before following it up with a quizzical tilt of his head, another dip of his eyelashes, “It wasn’t bothering you, was it?”

A good actor indeed, Bruce thinks. He grits his teeth, stopping another growl from escaping his throat. “Dick.”

Dick doesn’t flinch back when he leans in closer, but arches forwards, tilting his face upwards towards him. His smile widens, openly teasing. “ _Was_ it?”

“Don’t try to pretend that wasn’t your intent.”

A rumble of thunder from the bruised sky overhead precedes Dick’s laughter. Bruce is not a man given to poetry - he deals with logic and hard truths, more than he does flights of whimsy - but even so, he’s still taken by the sight of Dick; almost swallowed by greenery, smiling like some wild fey thing as lightning flashes in the sky and the rain pours down. This is his element, Bruce thinks - surrounded by life and movement, far more than the stuffy artificial atmosphere inside.

“That depends, how angry will you be if I admit that it was?”

Bruce sighs at how easily he’s been manipulated. “Not as angry as I should be.”

Dick laughs again. His hand, when it touches Bruce’s face, is warm despite the rain. “Got you out of there, didn’t it?”

“Somehow, I don’t Alfred will view this as a suitable excuse for us leaving the party.”

“He can handle them for a little while without us.” The fingers of Dick’s left hand are winding themselves into the lapel of his jacket. He drags Bruce further forwards, until their bodies are aligned against each other and Bruce has to brace himself against the wet leaves as well. “Just tell him you were… taking care of another guest."

“Is that what this is? Me taking care of you?”

Dick lifts his leg and hooks it around the back of Bruce’s knees. Between that and the arch of his body, there’s no mistaking his intent now. “Don’t you always?”

 _No._ is his first thought. _No, not nearly as well as I should have._ But he doesn’t voice it, because it’s not the answer Dick wants to hear right now. He’s looking for fantasy; an escape, not another reminder of the grim reality of their lives.

And, just sometimes, Bruce needs that too.

He sighs as he gives in, bending his head down to cover the distance between them. The happy, pleased sound Dick makes at the first inkling of the kiss shoots right to the centre of his heart. His former-ward’s hands move around his back, one curling around the nape of his neck as Dick returns the kiss with feeling. He pushes their mouths together more firmly, turning what was a brief brush of lips into something deeper and more intimate, and Bruce can't help but be drawn in by it.

Dick kisses like no one else he’s ever known. Each time is like the first; the last. Dick is someone who lives in the moment, kisses in the moment. Kisses like, if he doesn’t make the most of it every time, he might never get to kiss again. It’s intoxicating, just like him.

When he parts his lips Bruce doesn’t even think before accepting the invitation. He thrusts his tongue into Dick’s mouth even as his hands leave the foliage on the wall, sliding down the sodden form of his protege and feeling the eager quivering of muscle beneath the layered fabric of his clothing instead. Dick moans softly at the first grinding of his hips, the sound almost drowned out by Bruce’s own greedy growl and the pounding of the rain over and around them.

“All this, just for five minutes of making out?” Bruce whispers against his lips when they part to get their breath back.

“Five minutes of making out? I was hoping for a little more than that, Bruce.” He jolts when Dick suddenly - with the grace and flexibility only he seems to possess - pushes up from the ground. His legs wrap around his waist, hooking together over the small of his back, and Bruce doesn’t need to be told; he instinctively takes Dick’s weight on himself, using both his own strength and the support of the wall to keep him from falling.

Now Bruce gets it. Even without the devil-may-care grin Dick is currently flashing in his face.

“We don’t -”

“No one else is going to come out here. And we’re already going to have to get changed before we rejoin the party.” Dick points out, sounding ridiculously calm and reasonable for the situation. “We might as well make it worthwhile. Right?”

Bruce glares at him, “You’re a menace.”

“I know.” Dick rolls his hips, “But a tempting one, right?”

His right hand slips down to Dick’s thigh and squeezes, seemingly with a mind of its own. Dick has a habit of making Bruce feel both young and old, all the same time. There’s not that many years between them, but keeping up with him is an endeavour. Bruce certainly can’t remember having that much of a libido when he was Dick’s age, but then he supposes his mind was always on other things; the city, its villains... and the precocious teenage boy he’d taken into his home and hardly knew what to do with when they weren’t fighting crime together.

Despite what the papers and the wider world thought about them, he and Dick had never really looked at each other as father and son. The current shift in their relationship attests to that. He’d been too young to be comfortable with the idea of trying to be a father then, and never shifted into the role until after Dick was already grown up and Jason had come along. Similarly, Dick had never been able to look at him as a parent, not when the memories of his real father were still so strong and positive. They’d been partners before anything else, despite the age difference: friends, and as they got older still that had progressed, transcended, into something even deeper, culminating in what they are now.

That was what no one else could ever understand, hence the need for secrecy.

Secrecy which would be so much easier to maintain if not for Dick’s love of risk and his desire to be seen.

“A menace.” Bruce repeats, shaking his head before kissing him once again, Harder this time, and with more urgency. His hips rock forwards, grinding his clothed erection against Dick’s and pushing him back harder against the wall. 

Inside the ballroom, the music is still playing, something soft and classical, but out here, between the two of them, there’s only the storm. The heavy roll of thunder, the endless tempo of the rain; a soundtrack that guides their movements just as much as the irrepressible need for each other that first tempted them out here does.

They rut together like a pair of teenagers. Dick shamelessly moaning with the confidence that he won’t be caught, even as he can’t help but tempt fate. He tilts his head back against the ivy while Bruce grips his thighs and bends his head down to lick the rainwater from his jaw, fingers teasing across his scalp and finishing the job the storm started in ruining the formal styling of his hair.

If they had more time he’d down pull the collar of his shirt and bite. If they had more time, he’d undo their trousers and touch and feel in all the ways he wants to; painstakingly reaffirming the familiar territories of Dick’s body skin to skin, until Dick is begging and sobbing for more. But they don’t have time. They don’t have time, and so they do this, impatiently thrusting, grinding and bucking their hips in a clumsy rhythm until they can no longer bear the rough friction between them.

Dick comes with a shout, of course. Voice rising high above the rain, if not the thunder. Bruce’s heart skips a beat at the sound, feeling the points of Dick’s fingers digging into his shoulders through his jacket, but the door to the ballroom remains closed, and their own private sanctuary undisturbed. A moment more and he’s coming too, quiet and restrained, with barely a grunt as he clenches his teeth together.

“B…”

“Hm.” Bruce sighs at the urging of Dick’s fingers, turning his head so they can kiss again. It’s pleasant at first, but soon enough, as the heated rush of orgasm starts to fade from his veins, he becomes acutely aware of just how wet he is from the rain, and the uncomfortably sticky feeling now taking hold in his pants.

“We need to go get cleaned up.” He says sternly, pulling away from Dick.

At least twenty minutes must have passed since they left the ballroom. His guests will be starting to look for him now, asking where he went. Dick might get away with disappearing a while longer, but he won’t. He’s the host, and certain things are expected of him.

Dick sighs unhappily, “I guess you’re right.”

Reluctantly, he first unhooks his legs from Bruce’s back, then unwinds his arms from around his neck. Bruce steps back, wincing once more at how uncomfortable he feels. There’s no way they’ll be able to sneak back through the ballroom and up the stairs without anyone noticing, which means…

“Race you to the top?” Dick asks, already slipping off his shoes and socks for the climb to the second floor.

Bruce shakes his head as he does the same. It’s possible that he could make the climb in these shoes, but it would take him much more time since the soles have no grip to them. “We both already know who’d win.”

“Later then.” Dick grins, winking at him before sinking his hands into the ivy and starting to scale the wall, aiming for the bedroom window directly above.

For a moment Bruce just stands and watches him, admiring the easy, sure movements Dick makes, as well as the view of his partner from below. Then with a restrained smile of his own, he follows, holding that last promise close to his heart.

Later. Later there’ll be time for a great many more things.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone!


End file.
